I think my car was stolen. I’m 99 percent sure.
See, parking one’s car in a city like Oakland is a treacherous affair (as this blog has alluded to in the past). For one, there is always some dirty, hidden misstep which leads to a ticket (i.e. obstructed and worn street sweeping signs indicating times for this phantom service involving invisible street sweeping and yielding results which look much TO MUCH like trashy streets). For two, when one has at least 200 given spaces to park in and then one leaves her car for days and days, and that one has a propensity for foggy-brain, one can and HAS lost her car.
That only happened once.
I found it within ten minutes.
This time it feels real-err.
After dragging my nine-year-old fatty pug, Ruby, around the block at least three times, strong-arming her huge, awkward-to-carry doggy car seat and about a thousand other things in her doggy “diaper bag”, she hated me, my thighs were soaked in sweat, I was late for my internship and, still that elusive mother fucker of a car was NOT FOUND.
I had to return to home base to dump this dead weight. My roommate confirmed where I’d parked it Sunday night (this is a big deal). Even so, I set up Ruby with her much-deserved grub; I put on my running shoes and I headed out on a mission.
After checking the pay lot, and eye scanning each and every car on four streets…
Nope. No car.
Called Oakland Popo…
Nope. No tow.
I then proceeded to get loaded watching Extras: Season Two, whilst waiting for an officer to show up for my story.
Nope. No officer.
Today, I’ve decided to remain calm. Foul car-karma is my lot, and for my lot I will bend over and take it up the keester. Best case scenario? Fucking car is gone from my life forever and I can sign up for City Car Share like I’ve always dreamed of. Worst case scenario? A couple meth headed pieces of shite went for a joy ride (in a D O D G E) and ditched it in Daly City minus its rims, Little Brown Brother’s bocce set, Froggie’s inherited guitar amp and my tennis racket; the right rear door is missing, the seats have some smoke damage and the inner air quality is tantamount to Beijing’s, coupled with the aroma of teenage body. Plus, I’d owe about a million dollars in tow fees, impound fees, bribery fees, ticket fees, shampooing fees and a deductible.
Worst-case scenarios be damned... but do I have to remind everyone what happened to my Volkswagen?
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Today’s Recommendations!
Souley Vegan
431 13st
(Between Broadway & Franklin St)
Oakland
I’ve had only their mac & cheese but it was a fantastical phenom. More reviews on Yelp!
Extras: Season 1 – FOR SURE… the jury’s (me) still out on Season 2 (I felt disappointed but I’m gonna give it another go; perhaps it is just THAT layered.) www.rickygervais.com
Hot Water Music, by Charles Bukowski: One story is so powerfully gross, you’ll smell the stench of urine and taste the mix of done red wine and stale chicken soup for days. (And try to buy it here.)
